Uninvited
by NobleCaliber
Summary: This isn't what 'see you around' meant. She knows it's wrong. She does it anyways. And she pays for that with a suprise that she should have seen coming in the first place.


Just because I can.

Also, it pains me to say that I do not, in fact, own NCIS. This would be on your television screen in action, not on your computer screen in words if I did.

/|\

_See you around_ meant they could go for coffee sometime. It meant they wouldn't ignore each other on the street. It meant maybe someday, just not today.

It certainly _did not _mean she was free to show up at his apartment and time she felt like. It _didn't _mean she could let herself in with the key she'd stol- borrowed without permission.

So why was she standing here, house key in the lock, debating weather or not to turn the damn thing?

Clamping her eyes shut, she swiveled her wrist, taking the key grasped in her fingers with it. She did it so slowly there was no scraping sound, no _click _as the bolt slid out of the doorframe.

Letting out a heavy, but equally silent, breath, she slid the door open (quietly, of course).

Once the door had been cracked, let alone opened, it became evident her silence wasn't needed. Though it wasn't loud, music played in the background- in another language.

_Strange,_ she thought, _Tony doesn't speak foreign languages- especially not this one._ Though she couldn't quite pinpoint what language it was, she knew Tony would not speak it.

Knitting her brows together, she dismissed the fact. The music seemed to be coming from the kitchen, where the _tat tat tat _of a knife on a cutting board mixed with the sound, striking to the beat of the base.

Despite the off-putting music, she walked in her toes to the kitchen area. As she rounded the corer and entered the room, she spoke without looking.

"Tony," she greeted, putting on her flirtiest smile.

The person chopping vegetables in the kitchen that, last time she checked, belonged to Anthony DiNozzo Jr. was not, well, Anthony DiNozzo Jr.

The woman, _woman_, whirled around, poising the knife she held to throw (which, with her skill, would prove deadly). Recognizing the other woman who'd scared the living crap out of her, she lowered the blade.

"EJ," she said, as if validating her presence.

"Zee-vah," the intruder drew out the word unsurely, taking Tony's partner in.

What she saw caused her to do a double take. Of course, there wasn't much to see. Maybe that was why she was so shell shocked.

Ziva was standing in Tony's kitchen, cooking, no less, wearing only a worn out red sweatshirt with the letters _OSU _stenciled across the chest in white. It hardly came mid-thigh and it was undeniably the _only_ thing clothing her. Feet bare, hair down, face clean.

EJ wanted to puke at those implications.

She tried to say something, anything. Whatever it was she was trying to say, and the hell if she knew, choked her as the words died in the back of her throat.

Ziva shoved her fists into the pocket of the sweatshirt (Which was obviously _not _hers), also at a loss for words.

She wanted to run. So badly, she wanted to run. She couldn't.

Of course, there had always been... Something between them. EJ had tried to convince herself that it was Tony, which meant he had _something _with every pretty girl in existence.

Ziva standing half naked in his apartment shot that one to hell.

"I'm sorry- I- I shouldn't have-" she stammered, pressing the key into Ziva's palm. She turned to leave, stopped by Ziva's grip on her upper arm.

She allowed herself to be turned back, more or less eye to eye with Ziva.

Neither of them spoke for a devastatingly long moment, just staring at each other.

Standing there, thoughts popped in and out of EJ's head. She chased each away, labeling them unethical. She couldn't believe she'd even begun to contemplate acting like a jealous teenager, fighting for Tony's affections. Come to think of it, She now felt bad coming here with intentions of going to bed in the first place. It's not like she'd ever even _seen _any of his Ohio State memorabilia, let alone been allowed to wear it. Wait, that as jealous teenager thinking. She shouldn't be doing that.

She was happy for them. Or at least he wanted to be.

It was Ziva who spoke first. "_I_ am sorry," she emphasized, leaving the dozens of unspoken endings off. _I'm sorry you didn't get a fair shot. I'm sorry it turned out like this. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I'm sorry that you were right all along._

EJ smiled softly, shaking her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she replied softly.

"Still."

The room went silent again, save the music. Again, the two women just stood staring at each other.

This time, it was EJ who broke the silence. "I should be going. Best of luck," she said warmly.

Ziva followed her to the door, leaning on it as the smaller woman left.

She started down the hallway in silence, but halfway to the elevator, her name was called.

She turned, a light _Hmm? _serving as her response.

"You too, Agent Barrett. You too."

She nodded and left.

/|\

A/N: So, this kind of just popped into my head. Kind of something between _look, Tiva's got their heads out of their asses _and _in your bitchy face, EJ_.

Fortunately, Ziva is much more gracious about it than I would be. I couldn't bring myself to have her screaming at EJ. Somehow, it seemed more natural for her to be… Like this. Oh, well.


End file.
